even for a president, but not for a secretary of state. Lansing decided he needed his experienced generals in military service at this time.
In his opinion, that left two choices. First was the former Republican candidate for president and former Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Charles Evans Hughes. Hughes had run against Wilson in 1916. Even though Lansing had run on the Democratic ticket, he thought he could get a Republican of Hughes’ stature approved by the senate.
Hughes had been a favorite for the most recent Republican nomination until the death of his beloved daughter in early 1920. She’d died of tuberculosis at the young age of twenty-eight, and Hughes had withdrawn from consideration as a candidate. His personal grief was too deep to permit him to campaign. But would he be able and willing to be secretary of state in this time of crises?
Lansing’s second choice was current Chief Justice Edward Douglas White, the man who had performed so well in getting Vice President Marshall to step down. However, White was seventy-four, in ill health, and, even though he had once been a Democrat, that was decades ago. It would not be White.
What other choices did that leave? He did not like the idea of tapping someone from Congress or a professional diplomat. Congressmen all seemed to be planning for the next election, and diplomats, in his opinion, had a difficult time making hard choices. More important, the more powerful men in Congress had let it be known that they weren’t much interested in what they perceived as a demotion.
He made his decision. It would be Charles Evans Hughes and damn the torpedoes. He would talk to the man and appeal to his patriotism. Now he could get on with the business at hand, preparing the defense of the United States against the likely German onslaught.
That is, if it could be defended.
* * *
The door to the Oval Office was closed. Only the participants, a small, select group, were inside. There were no secretaries or clerks present and no aides. Lansing wanted no notes taken for a posterity that might consider them fools. He instructed the staff that there should be no interruptions.
Even though Washington was a city of spilled secrets, not even rumors of the pending German incursion had leaked out. Everyone in the nation’s capital was abuzz with talk about Wilson’s death, Marshall’s abdication, and the new and totally unexpected elevation to the presidency of Robert Lansing. As far as the nation was concerned there were no problems with Imperial Germany and the Kaiser. Both Germany and even Mexico were far, far away.
Along with Secretary of War Newton Baker and General Payton March were Naval Secretary Josephus Daniels, and Admiral Robert Coontz, the Chief of Naval Operations.
Lansing called the meeting to order. “I’ll get directly to the point, gentlemen. How do we stop the Germans?”
Daniels looked at him sternly. “You presume they are coming. You have only the word of the British and we all know how they would love to drag us into the next conflict with Germany. And, unless my memory fails me, don’t governments like to begin war during the spring or summer, not in the late fall?”
“Agreed,” said Lansing. It was common knowledge that the British and the French were planning revenge against the Kaiser and desperately wanted the United States as an ally.
“And it is that last shred of doubt that has stopped me from announcing it to the world,” Lansing continued, “along with the fact that such an announcement would precipitate panic and possibly even violence. If we accuse the Kaiser and nothing happens, we look like fools for crying wolf. But let us assume that Zimmerman’s message is true, what can we do? What are our strengths?” He turned to Secretary Baker and then to General March, who shook his head sadly.
“First,” March said, “Mr. Daniels’ concern about campaigning in winter is misplaced. The fighting, if it comes, will take
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